


The Clothes I Wear

by didyoucheckunderthesofainhell



Series: 30 Day Challenge [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: End!verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didyoucheckunderthesofainhell/pseuds/didyoucheckunderthesofainhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is falling, but Dean's there to catch him. Until he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothes I Wear

About a month after Dean had last seen Sam, Castiel found him so far past drunk that he had trouble standing. Dean had finally given in and tried calling his little brother, only to find that all of his numbers had been disconnected. A fact that he loudly voiced to Castiel in the middle of the bar he had been sitting in for the better part of the night.

“I mean how much more clear can he get.” Dean slurred the words against Castiel’s shoulder as the angel carried him out the door effortlessly. “He doesn't need me anymore.”

Castiel had finally gotten Dean out of the bar and into the cold air of the night and had, after making sure no one was looking, taken flight to the motel room Dean was currently occupying. Upon arrival Castiel noticed that Dean had, out of habit perhaps, ordered a room with two beds, and sighed slightly before lowering the man unto one of the beds. Afterwards he awkwardly tucked of Dean’s shoes but otherwise let the hunter curl up. Positioning himself at the small table in the motel room, Castiel turned his attention to the night sky outside the window and listened as the breathing from across the room evened out.

Castiel had assumed that Dean had fallen asleep, but after a moment a silent whisper came from the bed, causing Castiel’s stare to shift. “He doesn't want me anymore.”

There was nothing Castiel could say to a drunk, half asleep Dean that would make any difference, would make anything better, so he just sat up straighter in the chair, prepared to chase away any possible nightmares.

After that Castiel decided to stay with Dean more often. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. The angel was slowly beginning to suspect that Dean was right: God was nowhere to be found, and if He could be found He wouldn't give a damn about any of them anyway.

 

* * *

 

Six months went by and the world slowly went to Hell. Angels died, people died, whole towns were wiped out. The Croatoan virus was released. Castiel started to fall.

For Castiel it was a slow and painful process. He had been noticing that he got tired more often, couldn't exorcise demons as easily as he once could. Slowly but surely his batteries were being drained, as Dean would have said – had he known. But Castiel had found it surprisingly easy to keep it from him. He could still do certain things, just not as often or as powerful as he once could. He could still fly. Until he couldn't.

So for Dean it happened rather suddenly, with a phone call in the middle of the night.

“Cas, I’m sleeping.” Dean murmured tiredly, still half asleep. “I told you-”

“I need you to come pick me up.” Castiel interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m at the corner of-”

“Wait hold on a second.” Dean groggily sat up in bed. “What the hell are you talking about? Why do you need me to come pick you up at,” Dean yawned slightly and glanced at his watch. “fucking 4 o’clock in the morning?”

“Dean.” Castiel said with as much authority as he could muster. “Come get me, I don't know the way back to the motel from here.”

“Fine fine.” Dragging himself out of bed, Dean made his way to the door. “No need to get so pissy. Where did you say you were?”

The car ride back to the motel was silent, awkwardly so. Castiel had entered the car without so much as a ‘thank you’ and refused to answer any of Dean’s questions, instead choosing to stare out of the window. Dean just sighed and figured he’d let him pout in silence.

That is until they returned to the motel room.

“Okay Cas, spill.” Throwing his keys on the table Dean made his way to the fridge to grab a beer, before sitting down at the table. “Start by explaining why I had to drive an hour when you could have just mojoed your way here in a second.”

Castiel stayed quiet for a while, silently positioning himself opposite Dean and grabbing his beer. “I can’t fly anymore.”

Not what Dean had been expecting. He stared at the angel for a moment, not sure what to say. He quickly banished the thought that Sam would know how to handle this. Dean hadn't talked to his brother in 7 months. Castiel downed Dean's beer, placing the empty bottle on the table. A feeling of dread was slowly settling in. “What do you mean you can’t fly anymore?”

“I mean I can’t fly anymore Dean.” A bitter laugh followed. “I can’t do much of anything anymore actually.”

“Cas, what’s going on?” Dean said concerned and not really sure he even wanted to know the answer.

“I’m falling Dean.” Castiel said in such a broken voice he might as well have ripped Dean’s heart out.

“But I though you had to rip out your grace to fall…” Dean asked weakly.

“Well apparently not.” The room was left in silence as Dean took this in, and Castiel continued taking sips from his beer.

“How long has this been going on Cas?” Dean leaned forward a bit.

“For a while. Since I was brought back I’ve been losing power.”

“And you didn't tell me?” Suddenly angered Dean stood up, shouting. “What, you didn't think this was something I needed to know? I mean fuck, Cas you could have ended up being stranded fucking anywhere. And then what? I’m not sure I could have just come get you from fucking Egypt or wherever it is you go all the goddamn time.”

Castiel just sighed, not even able to gather up enough energy to shout back. “I’m tired Dean.”

That simple statement was enough to cause all the anger to leave Dean immediately. Yeah, he was tired too. Just fucking tired. “Yeah, okay. Let’s just… Let’s just go to sleep. You can take the extra bed.”

But neither of them got much sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

The next morning they both pretended nothing much had changed. Except of course everything had changed, which was evidenced by the simple fact that Castiel now, as well as needing to sleep, needed food. And needed to shower, and shave, and everything else that came with being human – or close to it anyway.

Dean taught him all of it. Taught him that you couldn't just go a whole day without eating, and that you couldn't wear the same suit for three days straight – instead providing him with some of Dean’s own clothes – and that sometimes life just sucks. And one night, after a close call with a demon that had almost cost Castiel his life, Dean taught him about sex. 

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Dean said from the bed as he watched Castiel get dressed in their hut at Camp Chitaqua, almost a year after Castiel had started falling. “We really should get you some clothes of your own.”

 “I like wearing your clothes.”

And he did. Castiel loved being enveloped in  _Dean_  every moment of the day, from nights in their cabin to days in his clothes, the scent of Dean always surrounding him – keeping him grounded. The world was a mess and Castiel was human – truly, extremely,  _painfully_ , human – but he still had Dean.

“Besides, I don't hear you complain.” Castiel said with a raised eyebrow.

“Hell no.” Dean relished in watching Castiel wander around in his clothes. Dean sat up slightly, to better appreciate the bend over form in front of him, and smirked. “But we could get you something that actually fits you. Something a little tighter maybe.”

A shirt was thrown at his head and Castiel dropped down on the bed next to him, rolling his eyes. “You just want to ogle my ass all day.”

“And what a great ass it is.” Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “How about we get you back out of those pants?”

“We have a meeting in 20 minutes Dean.” Castiel protested half-heartedly, as Dean rolled on top of him.

“Well then.” Dean reached for the button on his jeans, popping it open as he licked a line up to Castiel’s ear, whispering. “We better make ‘em count.”

Castiel arched in to the hand that was slowly creeping into his underwear, and reached a hand around to grab Dean’s ass firmly, the other yanking his head into a firm kiss. Castiel was biting at Dean’s lower lip, thrusting up lazily into his fist, when a knock came at the door.

“Fuck.” Castiel said, panting.

Dean let out a whine as Castiel broke their kiss, but didn't stop moving his hand. “Cas, just ignore it. They’ll go away.”

Castiel nodded slightly, not really able to focus on anything but the feel of Dean above him. The knocking grew higher and more insistent, and was soon accompanied by Chuck’s voice.

“Guys?” Another knock. “There’s some new intel on Sam.”

Dean froze, quickly jumping off of the bed and finding clothes, throwing Castiel a shirt, before ripping open the door.

“Tell me.” Dean said, following Chuck out the door, leaving Castiel to hurry after them. If he had known that would be the last time he would have with Dean, Castiel probably wouldn’t even have gotten out of bed that morning.

 

* * *

 

Sam said yes in Detroit and Dean started fucking Risa, and Jane, and Christie and anyone who wasn't Castiel. Castiel moved into his own cabin. He started loathing the feel of Dean’s shirts on his back, never really being able to escape the man. The next supply run Castiel found his own clothes and quietly returned Dean’s old clothing to their... Well,  _Dean's_ cabin.

If Dean noticed, he was too far gone to care.


End file.
